Children, This Isn't Neverland
by star darling xo
Summary: -AU-Two-Shot..."Childhood is this Brilliance of color and wonder- lost in between those years and adulthood. Who knew teenagers could kill? I knew. Pleased to meet you, I'm a seventeen year old; Claire Lyons. A child's worst nightmare." Rated T for language, implied acts of inapropro stuff and eating disorders. R and R pleassee:)
1. Children, This Isn't Neverland

_Childhood_ is simple.

_Childhood_ is believing in silly things-like Magic.

Believing that anything can happen; that you will find your prince charming, live in an enormous castle, and never have any worry ever again. Well, if life was that simple, we would all be royalty.

_Childhood_ is this Brilliance of color and wonder- lost in between those years and adulthood. Who knew teenagers could kill?

I knew.

Pleased to meet you, I'm a seventeen year old; Claire Lyons. A _child's_ worst nightmare.

"Why is it," I ask my father, "That we dream?"

He sighs and rustles my hair, as if I was just a foolish little girl and indeed, I was. But six year olds have minds too. Adults seem to forget that. Adults are forgetful of a lot of things. But, of course, _children_ are too. "Claire, you'll understand when you're older."

But that sentence never means anything does it? Every day of my life, at least once, I would get that answer. That nothingness flying off the tips of their tongues. It was a horrible excuse where a simple 'I don't know' would have been accepted. Adults can't allow _children_ that knowledge though. The knowledge that Adults simply do not know everything. I don't know everything and my father certainly didn't. But children, optimistically dippy, think that Adults hold the greatest wisdom when in reality, adults are just learning their way around.

School taught them nothing. Not one of the adults you know were prepared to set off on their own. Their own 'adventure' as a _child_ might call it. But this is no quest for treasure, nor is it the enchanting Neverland- a place where fairies exist and _children _never grow up. Adulthood is none of those things. Going to Adulthood straight out of _childhood_ would be like a black hole- a swirl of darkness and deception. You think you see a light at the end of the tunnel when its really a train about to push you down, run you over. Life is just one head ache after another.

The teenage years come in between to ease the_ child_ into an adult. It's a process, a slow one at that. But the teenage years come stronger than the inventors of it expected. Insecure, hopeless, mixed with pessimistically insane(as if the optimistic kind existed); it's no wonder as to how we all got so screwed up. Popular girls and boys, hormones raging, didn't help us (Massie, Dylan and I).

"Do you think he means it? Does he really love me?" Massie's clear voice, like crystal, rings out in the crowded halls of hell. Just as she says it, we turn the corner to discover her boyfriend of the time, Josh Hotz, making out with none other than slutty Alicia Rivera. Her wannabe friends stood by her side, smirking at us. Kristen Gregory and Olivia Ryan.

She lifted her hand up to her eyes, attempting to catch the salty tears that threatened to fall. But they never came. She has been heartbroken too many times. She was all dried out.

I know crying doesn't work like that, but Massie Block, the strong girl she was, held her head high. She was officially numb to this kind of pain. In fact, she walked right up to him and seethed, "I hope she's good in bed. It would be such a pity for you to throw our relationship away for nothing." she shoved in between them and began to walk away before spinning on her heel and saying, "BTW Josh, you're an asshole. It _wasn't_ nice knowing you."

From then on, the girls who dotted their 'i's with hearts dissolved to nothing; replaced by girls who simply have none of that innocence left. Dylan Marvil, the healthiest red-head the world had ever seen got an eating disorder. Anorexia. We pray for her, or rather we _did._ But Dylan, (even writing her name makes me cry softly inside) ran from her problems. She ran away from us. Isolated and alone, Dylan let the eating problems get the best of her.

"Claire, I have to go," she confides one night on my room's balcony. "I can't stand being here in the shadows of my perfect sisters, and the stares I get are just awful. They look at me like I'm some caged animal. And they call me names. They say I'm stupid for doing this to myself. I'm scared, because they're right. Do they think I want this? One second they call me an elephant and the next they ridicule the bones that are exposed through the thin barriers of my skin."

"It's not your fault," I shake my head. "They were jealous of you. They made this out of you. But, Dyl, it's not to late to stop."

"It's never to late," she agrees dizzily. The next morning, her bed was found- but no Dylan. To this day, they haven't found her or whatever could be left of her deteriorating body.

I'm afraid of the world.

I'm afraid of myself.

We all get the rush of fear that paralyzes our bodies once in our lifetimes. I get it when I look in the mirror. I look at my curly blonde locks and sparkling blue eyes; two features that everyone envies. But I see right through them. I see myself down to the core. Smiling, spinning, _deceiving_. I am deceiving. Everyone thinks that I'm a happy person, a kind person. They don't have a clue. I have a traumatizing past, and my future doesn't look so bright either. But I don't dare allow anyone of that information. You want to know my back story? Have at it.

My younger brother, Todd, was killed in a car accident. Along with my mother, Jodi. I was only 5. So I was shipped to Westchester from my beloved home in Orlando. Orlando was the place where dreams came true in magical Disneyland. Where the sun was always shining and the clouds were always shaped like hearts and bunnies. _Children_ that went to Disney failed to realize that after the fantastical world closed for the night, it was just another musty old theme park with trash swept up by the wind and the air polluted with fumes from the metal contraptions _children_ called 'rides'. I don't see them as such. At least not anymore.

Westchester was thrown at me in a whirlwind. My father, an investor, lived in a large house with a butler, a maid and a driver. Next door was the infamous Massie Block. At the time, we were still _children _ourselves.

"Hi," she sticks her hand out to me, confident as ever. She was holding the brownies her mother baked for me and standing outside my door. Apparently my father made a big deal about my arrival, and I still contemplate whether that was a good or bad thing. "I'm Massie. Massie Block."

"Claire," I reply shyly and take the hand. To be honest, I barely touched it. In my defense, I just suffered the loss of two family members. I had the right to be distant. I still have the right to be distant.

From that day onward, we were the best of friends. I'm talking tea parties, treks through the woods behind our house; imagination transforming it to a magical forest of sorts. Tea parties in the woods even, if we had been watching Alice in Wonderland previously.

Today, we're visiting the woods again. Call it what you want; a trip down memory lane, whatever. I wanted to have a last glimpse at what used to be. What used to make us giggle and jump with glee. What we thought was fun.

"Are you sure about this?" Massie asks, shoving branches out of the way and stomping on crinkled leaves.

"I don't know." I admit sheepishly. "Maybe it'll help us."

"Do what?" she snorted. "Cleanse our souls?"

"Actually," the corners of my mouth fold up. "That's a good idea."

"To cleanse our souls?" Massie raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

I shrug. "Well yeah. Don't you think coming here could do just that? Mass, we deserve that much."

She offers a weak smile that doesn't quite meet her eyes. Her amber orbs haven't had the same spark since middle school. We persist down the path until we reach a familiar clearing. In the center, there was an ornate little table. It used to be a pale pink color but after being out here for almost 12 years, weather has worn that down to a grey. There were several nicks in the wood, probably from animals. Our chairs went through the same, once being green and blue. All of our delicate tea cups had crashed to the ground and were nothing but glass shards. Kneeling down, I pick them up and try to fit some together. After two seconds, I drop them and let a solitary tear trail my cheek. Massie notices before I can wipe it off. "What's wrong?"

My eyes snap shut. "Is it too late to fly away?"

"Claire," she sighs. "If we actually had wings all those years ago, were do you think we would end up?"

"I don't know."

"You want to know where I would fly?" She asks, walking down to the creek bed just a few feet ahead of us. I follow.

"Where?"

She takes a deep breath and stares at the calm water for but a moment. "I would fly to Dyl."

I close my eyes again, letting the breeze sway me. Keeping them closed, I walked forward and stepped out of my flip flops and into the cool creek water. It rushed between my toes. I didn't care about the muddy mush beneath my feet and I didn't care about the tadpoles that brushed against my ankles. Turning, I followed the creek further downstream. Massie follows behind me, giggling softly. Suddenly, her laughing stops. Instead she screams and I feel her splash water as she runs back upstream. Ignoring it, I walk further. Something blocks my way. My foot touches it, a hard clump of who knows what. I peel my eyes open again and look down. I scream as well. Dylan Marvil's rotting body damming the water flow.

* * *

Late into the night, the cops are wrapping up their investigation. Massie and I watch from my bedroom balcony, the same one Dylan stood at before she ran away and, well, died. Pacing, crying and wincing, we see them drag her body away on a gurney, wrapped up in plastic so just a single red curl hangs out. TV News reporters are scattered through my yard, flashing their bright lights in the policemen's faces and letting it seep through the plastic; allowing a glance for the world at Dyl's pale, dead face. Massie and I are clinging to each other, sobs coming easier now. More fluidly. I cried to the point where my gasps for air became louder.

Our tears splatter against the ground, much like blood. I'm going through a haze, my memories slam into one another, stunning my mind. I'm staggering back to my room and crashing onto my bed, leaving Massie alone to weep.

* * *

Beware _Children_, Ignorance is Bliss.

* * *

**Sorry if this wasn't very good. I got the idea for it and I just wrote in about..7 hours? It seems like a long time but lately it's been taking me days to write just one chapter for something..lol**

**HEY, EATING DISORDERS AREN'T COOL. YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL NO MATTER WHAT:) DON'T LET PEOPLE TELL YOU OTHERWISE!**

**hope you weren't disappointed with thatt..**

**And btw, sorry I keep making one-shots instead of updating...I keep getting these Ideas and I can't help it! I promise I'll update in the next few days!**

**xoxo,**

**natalie:)**


	2. Children, I'm Leaving Wonderland

**_Children, _I'm Leaving Wonderland**

_Children _misunderstand our society.

_Children _think that when you wish upon a star, their dreams come true.

_Children _make that mistake all to often.

But, honestly, who are we to blame but ourselves for the deceiving fairy tales we have fed into their minds since birth? After all, brainwashing is brainwashing and this is the most reckless indoctrination of all. But maybe I'm a tad bitter from my ever-so tragic existence.

_Massie Block's the name, dream crushing's the game._

I remember that just a few years ago, a stranger could look at me and see a regular girl. Perfect chestnut curls cascading past my shoulders, a radiating aura and a lost look in my shining amber eyes that revealed my 'head in the clouds' persona. But no matter how benevolent and naive I was wouldn't stop me from getting my heart shattered until there's nothing but silver dust left.

Always lost in a daydream, and always blocking out reality. If only I wasn't so stupid. Maybe I could have stopped it all from happening. At the same time, maybe no one could have stopped it. Maybe it was just meant to be.

Ah, there I go again. Wasting my life with the 'What if's and the 'Maybe's, but adults do that a lot. _Teenagers _do that a lot. At least _children_ never have to question anything.

_Children_ are special like that. They can follow a rabbit through a tiny hole in the ground and tumble through thin air into a magical world where caterpillars smoke hookah and blow it into their faces, where the creators of said world suffer from a rare disorder that causes hallucinations and ultimately death, where a duchess beats her baby boy when he sneezes, where cats smoke cigars and smile really creepily at people, where_ fantagical_ "mushrooms" and "potions" *cough* _Drugs_ *cough-cough* can make someone smaller and/or larger, where-well, I think I've made my point.

_"If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?"_  
― Lewis Carroll,_ Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass_

Its that kind of confusion that can only make sense in a_ child's _mindset. Their crazy fantasy of what this is, what the world is. I used to be that way. I was lost, and I still am lost.

_"_But now I'm lost in a dark world, not the wonderland I created.  
In my new life,  
Reality pours down like hailstones on soft hearts,  
My soul is ripped out and torn to shreds every second,  
Ominous clouds loom over me like headstones  
But those Black Clouds on the horizon  
are really snatches of an uneasy conversation  
And suddenly there's a restless peace,  
the leaves fall; gentle, silent.  
little by little, I build myself up-  
add one more string in my bow  
and it snaps in two.  
taken away as if floated on a breeze  
Everything is gone and there's nothing left to do  
On and on  
A cycle.  
Sure, I'll climb on my own two feet-"

A paper ball is flung into my face and I glance up from the wrinkled paper in my hands to see the perpetrator who interrupted me. "_Bo-ring!_" Derrick Harrington howled with the urging of his buddies. "Block, ya gotta quit being such a snoozer!"

"Yeah!" his friends all mimicked. "Quit being a snoozer!"

"I doubt you wrote that anyway" He added, a smirk growing on his face. "Probably stole it from one of the actual_ smart_ kids in the class."

My nose twitched slightly and I felt my own glare deepen until he fell silent and stared back blankly. Calmly going to my seat in the back near were he was and moving my stuff to the front row, I kept my gaze locked on his. The rest of the class looked between us like they were at a tennis match. Finally, he cleared his throat and turned away.

Yeah, life sucks, _kiddos._ Although most of you will never have a life like mine. No one really does.

Oh, and how could I forget? I need to fill the _children_ in on the most _horrid_ event I have ever faced.

I was shoved up to some dumb podium to say some words of respect for Dylan Marvil, my dead friend. Claire and I found her rotting body in the creek behind our house-_no biggie or anything. _"Wow, I really didn't prepare a speech. I was planning on laying low but I guess its difficult-being her best friend and all." I forced a chuckle to lighten up the mood but not even Claire was phased. She kept her blonde head hidden by a bible. I coughed and continued. "Uhm, _any_-way, Dyl and I were the best of friends-we _are_ the best of friends. And Claire Lyons included. Yeah, a real tight-knit group of girls."

Picking up the microphone, I began to pace as it eases my mind when I walk. "I've known them forever and to think that Dylan is really gone, I'd almost rather think she was missing. At least then that false sense of hope still lets us believe that Dylan is still smiling, laughing-burping as she often did." that got a few giggles. "It also befuddles my mind as to who she is. Did I really know her? The Dylan that I've known all my life was always happy and outspoken and insecure but not enough to-" I stopped myself. "Dylan is so amazing but I don't think she would have done this. Yeah, I guess I just didn't know my best friend at all." A solitary tear slid down my cheek. I looked at the picture of her long and hard before slinking over to it across the stage and picking it up in my right hand. "She was perfect and she didn't realize it. But it is so incredibly_ self-ish_ to do this. I don't know if I want to hug this picture of her or smash it to the ground. When she killed herself, she killed all of us. She abandoned everybody and she took us for granted. It's not fair that we have to go on about how great she is now that she's dead _just_ because she's dead.

"When everyone believed she was alive and missing"I continued. "-having just run away from the world- everyone ranted about how stupid she is and blah-blah-blah. But I didn't. The only reason is because I thought it was completely courageous to do that and I get thoughts of running away all the time but I never really do. But killing yourself- now _that's _stupid. And it makes me regret ever thinking for a moment that she was brave. Suicide is the most cowardly thing to do and-" Merri-Lee Marvil stood, glaring in my direction. Behind her, Dylan's sisters were breaking down to tears.

"I think it's time for you to go." she commanded.

And _that's _how I got kicked out of my best friend's funeral.

But that's not even the worst part- Claire, you see, went mute. Completely and utterly silent. She kissed goodbye normalcy. Even at lunch, she sat by herself. Eventually, she resorted to home-schooling. And we may have been next-door neighbors but I haven't seen her since. So suddenly our trio crumbled to nothing and I was left to fend for myself.

"Dad, I don't want to move to London!" I protested. He simply shook his head.

"You need to get out of this place and besides, London is great. Just wait and see. You'll enjoy it."

I reluctantly packed my bags and set off for a new land, a new destination. My father told me that I could chase my dreams to my hearts content once I arrived. But all I chased that cold England morning was a boy named James. _Children_ would call chasing a boy 'icky' but they haven't seen him. His hair swept just the right way, his accent was thick and intoxicating, he wore stylish clothes with out being completely overdone, and he had a charming sense of humor. If only he was like that on the inside as well.

We were on the Campus Lawn gazing up at the varying shaped clouds and pointing out each one. "That one's a- oh look, my friends are here." James sat up and turned to a group of teens hovering above us. They each had a joint sticking out of their mouths and held up a few more, offering them to James and I.

Druggies are the worst. Have we learned nothing from Alice and Wonderland?

To say the least, I dumped him. Ha, sucks to be James. Well that's what he gets for trying to convert girls to the 'dark side' with his pot. Who knew the Brits' were just as much obsessed with drugs as Americans?

* * *

Edit: January 18, 2013 

I lived on. I graduated. I moved on. What else was I supposed to do? Nothing was ever the same, and maybe I liked it. Without Dylan I wouldn't be where I am. Without Claire I wouldn't be where I am. Heck, without James I wouldn't be where I am today.

2 months into college, I met a fancy Music Producer while giving one of my 'ever inspiring' speeches about suicide, depression and drugs. He hadn't heard me sing, but he knew from just listening to me talk that I was a writer. A poet, lyrical genius, songwriter-call it what you will. Now my songs are at the top of the charts and its all thanks to them.

"Okay, that was good, just bring it up a note higher at the end of it- alright? And now!" my director said to me through the microphone, his voice echoing in the sound booth.

Holding my headphones around my neck, I smiled with my glossy lips. My straight hair was tame that day for once and I wore a t-shirt from my old high school. I'm only a 19 year old girl but I've seen enough of this world. Hey, that would make a good lyric

"_You see me by myself_  
_Alone and without_  
_Cause I've been waiting too long_  
_On this drought  
_

_And if you-think-I-care  
you'd know better than to vanish  
into thin air  
_

_I'm leaving Wonderland for the last time  
Not coming back  
Not turnin' 'round  
I'm leaving Wonderland  
Don't you ask why~_

_Stuck in a fantasy  
Why didn't you save me?  
It's hard to buh-lieve  
It's hard to buh-lieve_

_And maybe, I'm just a little girl  
but I'll assure you:  
I've seen too much of this world_

___I'm leaving Wonderland for the last time  
Not coming back  
Not turnin' 'round  
I'm leaving Wonderland  
Don't you ask why~_"

"Perfect Massie! Loved it! That bridge you threw in was awesome!" he threw his hands up in the air in a 'touchdown' kinda way.

"Thanks Steve" I grinned.

So I know that when I found Dylan, I thought my life was over. But maybe, just maybe, that was when it had just begun.

* * *

**hey! I wrote this because I thought of having Massie's view on what went down and thought this was perfect.**

**hope you liked it! **

**btw: the 'edit' is part of the story to point out that she changed her views and such...so yeah**

**xoxo,**

**natalie**


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